CHAPTER 6 The Scandal
For three seconds, I considered lying.
It was not my proudest moment.
But when your older brother asks why the entire hockey internet has photographic evidence of you secretly attending his greatest rival’s game, honesty suddenly becomes a complicated concept.
I stared through the windshield at the concrete wall of my parking garage.
Noah remained silent on the phone.
Too silent.
That was worse than yelling.
“Emma.”
“I went to Portland.”
“I can see that.”
His voice was calm in the way people sound right before they break something.
“I went to the game.”
“Why?”
I closed my eyes.
Because Mason asked me.
Because I wanted to see him.
Because I wanted to know what he looked like when he wasn’t fighting you.
Because I kissed him four nights ago and haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since.
None of those answers felt survivable.
“I wanted to.”
The silence afterward was brutal.
“You wanted to.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s complicated.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It actually is.”
“Did Cole ask you to go?”
I hesitated.
Noah laughed once.
A terrible sound.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Noah.”
“He asked you.”
“Yes.”
“And you went.”
“Yes.”
“Behind my back.”
My temper flickered.
“I didn’t do it behind your back.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly would you call it?”
“My decision.”
That stopped him.
I gripped the phone tighter.
“Going to a hockey game doesn’t require your permission.”
“This isn’t a hockey game.”
“Yes, technically it is.”
“This is Mason.”
“I know.”
“You promised me you’d stay away from him.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
I remembered the arena hallway.
Noah’s hand on my shoulder.
Promise me.
At the time, it had seemed harmless.
Easy.
I hadn’t known Mason.
“I shouldn’t have made that promise.”
Noah went quiet.
“What?”
“I said I shouldn’t have made it.”
“So your solution is breaking it?”
“My solution is deciding for myself who I talk to.”
“Talk to?”
The word came sharp.
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
That was no longer true.
And Noah knew me well enough to hear it.
“Emma.”
“Don’t interrogate me.”
“Did he touch you?”
Anger flashed through me.
“That is absolutely none of your business.”
“Did he kiss you?”
I said nothing.
Silence betrayed me.
Noah swore.
Loudly.
Then something crashed on his end.
“Noah.”
“You kissed him?”
“It’s not—”
“You kissed Mason Cole?”
“Yes.”
The word came out stronger than I expected.
No apology.
No excuse.
Just yes.
Noah breathed heavily.
For one second, I worried he might actually drive to Portland despite Mason being long gone.
“How many times?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“How long has this been happening?”
“It hasn’t been happening.”
“That picture suggests otherwise.”
“That picture shows me sitting in an arena.”
“And looking at him like—”
He stopped.
“Like what?”
“Forget it.”
“No. Finish the sentence.”
Noah’s voice dropped.
“Like you care about him.”
That silenced me.
Because anger I could handle.
Accusations I could fight.
But that?
I didn’t know.
“I barely know him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Noah exhaled.
“Emma, you don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“I understand exactly what I’m doing.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Stop saying that.”
“You’ve known him for what? A week?”
“Long enough to know he isn’t exactly who you said he was.”
The moment I said it, I knew I had crossed another line.
Noah’s voice became cold.
“What did he tell you?”
“About Lily?”
Silence.
My anger softened.
“Noah.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me what happened.”
“No. He told you his version.”
“He admitted what he did wrong.”
“And did he tell you what happened afterward?”
I frowned.
“What afterward?”
Noah didn’t answer.
That old frustration returned.
“This again.”
“Emma—”
“No. You both do this. You both tell me just enough to scare me and then stop talking.”
“Because some things aren’t yours to carry.”
“Maybe I’m capable of deciding that.”
“You’re my sister.”
“That doesn’t make me twelve.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Silence.
I softened my voice.
“I love you.”
Noah inhaled.
“But you cannot tell me who I’m allowed to know.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From Mason?”
“Yes.”
“Or from what happened between you?”
That landed.
I heard it.
The pause.
The small shift in his breathing.
“Noah.”
He said nothing.
“What happened after Lily died?”
“Not tonight.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Emma.”
“You want me to trust your judgment while refusing to give me the information behind it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is treating me like your property.”
His voice hardened.
“I never said you were.”
“Then stop acting like Mason is stealing something that belongs to you.”
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Then Noah said quietly, “You don’t know what he becomes when he cares about someone.”
Something cold moved through me.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask him.”
I almost screamed.
“Stop doing that.”
“You want answers? Ask him why he stopped playing for three months after Lily died.”
My anger disappeared.
“What?”
Noah was silent.
“Three months?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Ask Mason.”
The line went dead.
I sat in the car staring at nothing.
My phone buzzed.
Then again.
Then again.
Notifications stacked across the screen.
Messages from Claire.
Mentions.
Unknown numbers.
Social media alerts.
The photograph was spreading.
I opened one post.
**HOCKEY’S HOTTEST RIVALRY JUST GOT PERSONAL?**
Another:
**NOAH BENNETT’S SISTER SPOTTED CHEERING FOR MASON COLE**
Cheering was generous.
I had clapped once.
The internet apparently considered that a blood oath.
Then another account posted:
**Sources say Emma Bennett was seen leaving the arena through a private player tunnel.**
My stomach dropped.
Someone had seen me downstairs.
Wonderful.
A message appeared from Mason.
**Call me.**
I stared at it.
Then another.
**Please.**
I called.
He answered immediately.
“You okay?”
No hello.
No joke.
Just that.
Something in me softened despite everything.
“I’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For asking you to come.”
I frowned.
“You didn’t force me.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take responsibility for my decisions.”
Silence.
Then Mason exhaled.
“Your brother already called.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing printable.”
“You fought?”
“Verbally.”
“For now.”
“Mason.”
“I’m joking.”
“You’re terrible at timing.”
“I’ve been told.”
I leaned my head against the seat.
“He knows we kissed.”
Mason went quiet.
“You told him?”
“He figured it out.”
“How?”
“My inability to lie convincingly.”
“Interesting.”
“Do not sound proud.”
“I’m not.”
He definitely was.
I closed my eyes.
“This is bad.”
“Yes.”
“People are posting pictures.”
“I know.”
“Someone saw me in the player tunnel.”
“I saw that.”
“How?”
“My phone hasn’t stopped exploding either.”
Of course.
For Mason, this wasn’t just family drama.
It was public.
A famous athlete secretly involved with the sister of his most notorious rival?
Sports media would survive for weeks on that alone.
“What is your team saying?”
“PR wants me to say we’re friends.”
I laughed.
“Are we?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
My pulse changed.
“Mason.”
“We’re not friends.”
“Then what are we?”
Silence.
Dangerous question.
He spoke carefully.
“I don’t know yet.”
That should have disappointed me.
Instead, the honesty made me breathe easier.
“Okay.”
“But I know I don’t want to pretend I barely know you.”
My chest tightened.
“Mason…”
“I won’t say anything publicly without talking to you.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
He paused.
“If you want me to deny everything, I will.”
I stared ahead.
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“Even if it made you look like I imagined the whole thing?”
“I don’t care what it makes me look like.”
The answer came quietly.
“I care what it does to you.”
That was becoming a problem.
A serious one.
“I don’t want you to lie.”
“Then I won’t.”
“But I also don’t want headlines about us.”
“Then we say nothing.”
“That won’t stop them.”
“No.”
“What do we do?”
Mason hesitated.
“Nothing tonight.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s your strategy?”
“People get bored.”
“With celebrity gossip?”
“Eventually.”
“Optimistic.”
“I have other qualities.”
“I’m still looking.”
He smiled through the phone.
I could hear it.
Then his voice softened.
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t read the comments.”
Too late.
“I already did.”
“Stop.”
“There are thousands.”
“Exactly.”
“One woman thinks I’m pregnant.”
Mason choked.
I laughed despite myself.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“You’ve infected me.”
“Dangerous.”
I smiled.
Then another message appeared.
Claire.
**There are photographers outside your building.**
My smile vanished.
“Mason.”
“What?”
“There are people outside my apartment.”
His voice changed instantly.
“Photographers?”
“Apparently.”
“Don’t go upstairs yet.”
“I’m already in the garage.”
“Stay in the car.”
“That seems dramatic.”
“Emma.”
There was something in his tone I had never heard before.
Command.
Not arrogance.
Concern.
“Stay there.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling building security.”
“You don’t know my building.”
“You gave me your address for the tow paperwork.”
I remembered.
“Right.”
“Lock the doors.”
“They’re already locked.”
“Good.”
“Mason, I can handle photographers.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like—”
“Handling something doesn’t mean you should have to.”
That stopped me.
I stared at the steering wheel.
“I’m fine.”
“I know.”
His voice softened.
“I still don’t like it.”
Ten minutes later, building security called and told me they had moved reporters away from the garage entrance.
I went upstairs through the private elevator.
Claire was waiting inside my apartment.
She took one look at me.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean emotionally.”
“Better.”
She handed me wine.
I accepted without argument.
The television was on mute.
A sports channel showed Mason’s face beside Noah’s.
Between them was my photograph.
I stopped.
“No.”
Claire grabbed the remote and turned it off.
“Sorry.”
I dropped onto the couch.
“How bad?”
“Do you want comfort or facts?”
“Facts.”
“Bad.”
“Excellent.”
She sat beside me.
“People figured out you’re Noah’s sister in under twenty minutes.”
“Humans can achieve incredible things when properly motivated by gossip.”